Trees and shrubs in autumn. Autumn changes

I. Sokolov-Mikitov

The chirping swallows flew south a long time ago, and even earlier, as if on cue, swift swifts disappeared.

AT autumn days the children heard how, saying goodbye to their dear homeland, flying cranes cooed in the sky. With some special feeling, they looked after them for a long time, as if the cranes were taking the summer away with them.

Quietly talking, geese flew to the warm south ...

People are getting ready for the cold winter. Rye and wheat have long been cut down. Prepared feed for livestock. They pick the last apples in the orchards. They dug up potatoes, beets, carrots and harvest them for the winter.

The animals are getting ready for winter. The nimble squirrel accumulated nuts in a hollow, dried selected mushrooms. Little mice-voles dragged grains into their burrows, prepared fragrant soft hay.

In late autumn, a hardworking hedgehog builds its winter lair. He dragged a whole heap of dry leaves under the old stump. All winter will sleep peacefully under a warm blanket.

Less and less, the autumn sun warms more and more sparingly.

Soon, the first frosts will begin soon.

Mother Earth will freeze until spring. Everyone took everything from her that she could give.

Autumn

It's been a fun summer. Here comes autumn. It's time to harvest. Vanya and Fedya are digging potatoes. Vasya picks beets and carrots, and Fenya picks beans. There are many plums in the garden. Vera and Felix pick fruit and send it to the school cafeteria. There everyone is treated with ripe and tasty fruits.

In the woods

Grisha and Kolya went into the forest. They picked mushrooms and berries. They put mushrooms in a basket, and berries in a basket. Suddenly thunder boomed. The sun has disappeared. Clouds appeared all around. The wind bent the trees to the ground. There was a big rain. The boys went to the forester's house. Soon the forest became quiet. Rain stopped. The sun came out. Grisha and Kolya went home with mushrooms and berries.

Mushrooms

The guys went to the forest for mushrooms. Roma found a beautiful boletus under a birch. Valya saw a small butter dish under a pine tree. Serezha saw a huge boletus in the grass. In the grove they collected full baskets of various mushrooms. The children returned home happy and happy.

Forest in autumn

I. Sokolov-Mikitov

The Russian forest is beautiful and sad in the early autumn days. Against the golden background of yellowed foliage, bright spots of red-yellow maples and aspens stand out. Slowly spinning in the air, light, weightless yellow leaves fall and fall from the birches. Thin silver threads of light cobwebs stretched from tree to tree. The late fall flowers are still blooming.

Clear and clean air. Clear water in forest ditches and streams. Every pebble at the bottom is visible.

Quiet in the autumn forest. Fallen leaves rustle underfoot. Sometimes a hazel grouse will whistle thinly. And that makes the silence even louder.

Easy to breathe in the autumn forest. And I don't want to leave it for a long time. It's good in the autumn flowery forest... But something sad, farewell is heard and seen in it.

nature in autumn

The mysterious princess Autumn will take the tired nature into her hands, dress her in golden outfits and get wet long rains. Autumn will calm the breathless earth, blow away the last leaves with the wind and lay in the cradle of a long winter sleep.

Autumn day in a birch grove

I was sitting in a birch grove in autumn, about half of September. From the very morning a fine rain fell, replaced at times by warm sunshine; the weather was erratic. The sky was now all clouded over with loose white clouds, then it suddenly cleared in places for a moment, and then behind the parted clouds a azure appeared, clear and gentle ...

I sat and looked around and listened. The leaves rustled a little over my head; one could tell from their noise what season it was then. It was not the cheerful, laughing thrill of spring, not the soft whispering, not the long talk of summer, not the timid and cold babble of late autumn, but barely audible, drowsy chatter. A light wind blew a little over the tops. The inside of the grove, damp from the rain, was constantly changing, depending on whether the sun shone or was covered with clouds; at one time it lit up all over, as if all of a sudden everything was smiling in it ... then suddenly everything around it again turned slightly blue: the bright colors instantly went out ... and stealthily, slyly, the tiniest rain began to sow and whisper through the forest.

The foliage on the birch trees was still almost all green, although it had noticeably turned pale; only here and there stood one young woman, all red or all gold...

Not a single bird was heard: everyone took shelter and fell silent; only occasionally did the mocking voice of the tit tinkle like a steel bell.

An autumn, clear, slightly cold, frosty day in the morning, when a birch, like a fairy-tale tree, all golden, is beautifully drawn in a pale blue sky, when the low sun is no longer warm, but shines brighter than summer, a small aspen grove sparkles through and through, as if it it is fun and easy to stand naked, the frost is still whitening at the bottom of the valleys, and the fresh wind quietly stirs and drives the fallen warped leaves - when blue waves joyfully rush along the river, quietly raising scattered geese and ducks; in the distance the mill knocks, half-covered with willows, and, motley in the bright air, doves quickly circle over it ...

By the beginning of September, the weather suddenly changed dramatically and quite unexpectedly. Quiet and cloudless days immediately set in, so clear, sunny and warm that there were none even in July. On the dry, compressed fields, on their prickly yellow bristles, autumn cobwebs shone with a mica sheen. The calmed trees silently and obediently dropped their yellow leaves.

Late fall

Korolenko Vladimir Galaktionovich

Late autumn is coming. The fruit is heavy; he breaks down and falls to the ground. He dies, but the seed lives in him, and in this seed the whole future plant lives in "possibility", with its future luxurious foliage and with its new fruit. The seed will fall to the ground; and the cold sun is already rising low above the earth, a cold wind is running, cold clouds are rushing ... Not only passion, but life itself freezes quietly, imperceptibly ... The earth more and more emerges from under the green with its blackness, cold tones dominate in the sky ... And then the day comes when millions of snowflakes fall on this resigned and hushed, as if widowed earth, and it all becomes even, monochromatic and white ... White color- this is the color of cold snow, the color of the highest clouds that float in the inaccessible cold of the heavenly heights, - the color of majestic and barren mountain peaks ...

Antonov apples

Bunin Ivan Alekseevich

I remember the early fine autumn. August was with warm rains at the very time, in the middle of the month. I remember an early, fresh, quiet morning ... I remember a large, all golden, dried up and thinned garden, I remember maple alleys, the delicate aroma of fallen leaves and the smell of Antonov apples, the smell of honey and autumn freshness. The air is so clean, it's like it doesn't exist at all. Everywhere smells strongly of apples.

By night it becomes very cold and dewy. Breathing in the rye aroma of new straw and chaff on the threshing floor, you cheerfully walk home to dinner past the garden rampart. The voices in the village or the creaking of the gates resound through the icy dawn with unusual clarity. It's getting dark. And here's another smell: in the garden - a fire and strongly pulls the fragrant smoke of cherry branches. In the dark, in the depths of the garden - a fabulous picture: just in a corner of hell, a crimson flame is burning near the hut, surrounded by darkness ...

"A vigorous Antonovka - for a merry year." Village affairs are good if Antonovka is born: it means that bread is born too ... I remember a harvest year.

At early dawn, when the roosters are still crowing, you used to open a window into a cool garden filled with a lilac fog, through which the morning sun shines brightly in some places ... You run to wash yourself on the pond. The small foliage has almost completely flown from the coastal vines, and the branches are visible in the turquoise sky. The water under the vines became clear, icy and as if heavy. She instantly drives away the night's laziness.

You will enter the house and first of all you will hear the smell of apples, and then others.

Since the end of September, our gardens and threshing floor have been empty, the weather, as usual, has changed dramatically. The wind tore and ruffled the trees for whole days, the rains watered them from morning to night.

Cold and bright shone in the north over heavy lead clouds liquid blue sky, and because of these clouds, the ridges of snowy mountains-clouds slowly floated up, the window closed into the blue sky, and the garden became deserted and boring, and the rain began to sow again ... at first quietly, carefully, then it got thicker and finally turned into a downpour with storm and darkness. It's been a long, unsettling night...

From such a beating, the garden came out completely naked, covered with wet leaves and somehow hushed, resigned. But on the other hand, how beautiful it was when the clear weather came again, the transparent and cold days of early October, the farewell holiday of autumn! The preserved foliage will now hang on the trees until the first frost. The black garden will shine through in the cold turquoise sky and dutifully wait for winter, warming itself in the sunshine. And the fields are already sharply turning black with arable land and bright green with bushy winter crops ...

You wake up and lie in bed for a long time. The whole house is silent. Ahead - a whole day of rest in the already silent winter estate. You will slowly get dressed, wander around the garden, find in the wet foliage an accidentally forgotten cold and wet apple, and for some reason it will seem unusually tasty, not at all like the others.

Dictionary of native nature

It is impossible to list the signs of all seasons. Therefore, I skip summer and move on to autumn, to its first days, when “September” is already beginning.

The earth is fading, but the “Indian summer” is still ahead with its last bright, but already cold, like a shine of mica, the radiance of the sun. From the deep blue of skies washed with cool air. With a flying web (“yarn of the Mother of God,” as ardent old women still call it in some places) and a fallen, wilted leaf that falls asleep on empty waters. Birch groves stand like crowds of beautiful girls in short shawls embroidered with gold leaf. "A sad time - the charm of the eyes."

Then - bad weather, heavy rains, the icy north wind "siverko", plowing lead waters, coldness, coldness, pitch-black nights, icy dew, dark dawns.

So everything goes on until the first frost seizes, binds the earth, the first powder falls and the first path is established. And there is already winter with blizzards, blizzards, snowstorms, snowfall, gray frosts, landmarks in the fields, the creak of undercuts on the sledge, gray, snowy skies ...

Often in autumn I would closely watch the falling leaves to catch that imperceptible split second when the leaf separates from the branch and begins to fall to the ground, but I did not succeed for a long time. I have read in old books about the sound of falling leaves, but I have never heard that sound. If the leaves rustled, it was only on the ground, under the feet of a person. The rustle of leaves in the air seemed to me as unbelievable as stories about hearing the grass grow in spring.

I was, of course, wrong. Time was needed so that the ear, dulled by the rattle of the city streets, could rest and catch the very clear and precise sounds of the autumn earth.

Late one evening I went out into the garden to the well. I put a dim kerosene lantern on the log house " bat and got some water. Leaves were floating in the bucket. They were everywhere. There was nowhere to get rid of them. Black bread from the bakery was brought with wet leaves stuck to it. The wind threw handfuls of leaves on the table, on the bunk, on the floor. on books, and it was difficult to groom along the paths of fat: you had to walk on the leaves, as if on deep snow. We found leaves in the pockets of our raincoats, in caps, in our hair - everywhere. We slept on them and soaked in their scent.

There are autumn nights, deafened and mute, when calmness hangs over the black wooded edge and only the watchman's beater comes from the village outskirts.

It was such a night. The lantern illuminated the well, the old maple under the fence, and the wind-torn nasturtium bush in the yellowed flower bed.

I looked at the maple tree and saw how a red leaf carefully and slowly separated from the branch, shuddered, stopped for a moment in the air and began to fall obliquely at my feet, slightly rustling and swaying. For the first time I heard the rustle of a falling leaf - an indistinct sound, like a child's whisper.

My house

Paustovsky Konstantin Georgievich

It is especially good in the gazebo on quiet autumn nights, when a leisurely sheer rain rustles in an undertone in the salou.

Cool air barely shakes the tongue of the candle. corner shadows from grape leaves lie on the ceiling of the gazebo. Moth, resembling a lump of gray raw silk, sits down on an open book and leaves the finest shiny dust on the page. It smells of rain - a gentle and at the same time pungent smell of moisture, damp garden paths.

At dawn I wake up. Fog rustles in the garden. Leaves fall in the mist. I pull a bucket of water from the well. A frog jumps out of the bucket. I douse myself with well water and listen to the shepherd's horn - he still sings far away, at the very outskirts.

It's getting light. I take the oars and go to the river. I'm sailing in the fog. The East is rosy. The smell of the smoke of rural stoves is no longer heard. There remains only the silence of the water, thickets of centuries-old willows.

Ahead is a deserted September day. Ahead - confusion in this wide world fragrant leaves, grasses, autumn wilt, calm waters, clouds, low sky. And I always feel this loss as happiness.

What are the rains

Paustovsky Konstantin Georgievich

(Excerpt from the story "Golden Rose")

The sun sets in clouds, smoke falls to the ground, swallows fly low, roosters crow in the yards without time, clouds stretch across the sky in long misty strands - all these are signs of rain. And shortly before the rain, although the clouds have not yet pulled, a gentle breath of moisture is heard. It must be brought from where the rains have already fallen.

But the first drops are starting to drip. The popular word "dripping" well conveys the occurrence of rain, when even rare drops leave dark specks on dusty paths and roofs.

Then the rain disperses. It is then that the wonderful cool smell of the earth, first moistened by the dogge, arises. He doesn't last long. It is replaced by the smell of wet grass, especially nettle.

It is characteristic that, no matter what kind of rain it will be, as soon as it starts, it is always called very affectionately - rain. “The rain has gathered”, “the rain has let go”, “the rain washes the grass” ...

How, for example, is the difference between spore rain and mushroom rain?

The word "arguable" means - fast, quick. Spore rain pours steeply, strongly. He always approaches with an oncoming noise.

Particularly good is the spore rain on the river. Each drop of it knocks out a round depression in the water, a small water bowl, jumps, falls again and for a few moments before disappearing, is still visible at the bottom of this water bowl. The drop glistens and looks like a pearl.

At the same time, there is a glass ringing all over the river. By the height of this ringing, you can guess whether the rain is gaining strength or subsiding.

A small mushroom rain sleepily pours from low clouds. The puddles from this rain are always warm. He does not ring, but whispers something of his own, soporific, and is slightly noticeably fiddling in the bushes, as if touching one leaf or another with a soft paw.

Forest humus and moss absorb this rain slowly, thoroughly. Therefore, after it, mushrooms begin to climb violently - sticky butterflies, yellow chanterelles, mushrooms, ruddy mushrooms, honey agarics and countless grebes.

During mushroom rains, the air smells of smoke and the cunning and cautious fish - roach - takes well.

People say about the blind rain falling in the sun: "The princess is crying." The sparkling sun drops of this rain look like large tears. And who should cry with such shining tears of grief or joy, if not the fabulous beauty of the princess!

You can follow the play of light during the rain for a long time, the variety of sounds - from the measured knock on the boarded roof and the liquid ringing in the drainpipe to the continuous, intense rumble when the rain pours, as they say, like a wall.

All this is only a tiny part of what can be said about the rain ...

It's nice to be in the forest in autumn. Nice and quiet! But among the silence that seems at first glance, you can clearly distinguish the polyphony of sounds.
Nearby creaking branches old oak. And this is a hedgehog running and sniffing funny with his nose - looking for what to stock up for the winter. High in the sky wild ducks call to each other. They're flying south because it's getting cold here. Only sparrows are in no hurry, so they fly around and chirp happily.
forest sounds evoke such calmness that you want to listen and listen to them. Good autumn in the forest.

Essay on literature on the topic: Good in the autumn in the forest

Other writings:

1. Winter is a wonderful time of the year. And especially good in the winter in the forest. It seems to us that in winter forest peace and silence reign, but this is only at first glance. When the sun comes up, the whole forest is transformed and sparkles. Many forest dwellers lay down in Read More ......
2. I love autumn for its unique subtle smell of ozone, wet asphalt and sweet death. And the air becomes both material and at the same time surprisingly transparent, crystal clear. And this poetic sadness of inevitable dying, as if you see another - frozen Read More ......
3. There are many wonderful places on earth. But it seems to me that you will not find better than our Siberian nature anywhere. There is nowhere more beautiful than our forest, especially in autumn! Don't believe? Let's take a walk through the autumn forest together and observe. See what a variety and Read More ......
4. Once my friends and I decided to go to the forest. It was autumn, in September. We waited until Sunday, took a compass so as not to get lost, and went. Grandma made us sandwiches so we wouldn't get hungry. We were six guys from our yard and Read More ......
5. Ivan Ivanovich Shishkin is a famous Russian landscape painter. A feature of his work is the desire to realistically depict the corners of his native Russian land that he saw. The artist simply could not imagine himself without Russia. On his canvases, nature seems to come to life: you can hear the singing of birds in the forest during Read More ......
6. It is still very warm, but already sad from the smell of the past summer, multi-layered, spicy-sour. The trees shed their summer-scorched leaves. It seems that the trunks are getting dark, they are tired and want to sleep. Restless small spiders weave webs at incredible speed, and you, without seeing, pluck Read More ......
7. There are many beautiful seasons, but I love autumn the most. I love the way the leaves fall. They look like gold to me. Even Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin called autumn golden. I love when the leaves fall off, they look like golden showers. This fall we Read More ......
8. Maples dressed in scarlet. They stand, thinking, on the edge, as if they are sad that October has come. Sometimes they quietly drop their carved leaves. A sudden gust of wind mercilessly rips the autumn beauty off the sad maples. How tender golden birches look among green pines. Read More ......

Cool! 17

The forest is good both in summer and in spring. But in autumn the forest becomes special. The bright colors of the trees are hardly noticeable in the city. There are few trees. And the colors are diluted with gray concrete. But in the forest, where there are only trees, bushes and grasses, all the colors of autumn become much brighter.

Autumn comes to the forest gradually. At first, only fragile birch trees turn golden. Then mighty oaks pick up the baton. And only pines and firs do not lend themselves to the general mood. They always stay green. But the trees that tightly surround the young Christmas trees still decide to help the green beauties become a little brighter. You can watch the golden green fall from the trees. The breeze picks it up and prevents it from landing on the ground. Yellow and red leaves fall on the thin needles of the Christmas tree. That's when you come to the forest gold autumn.

There is no silence in the forest. From everywhere you can hear how trees and animals are talking. You can hear how the wind sounds somewhere in the sky, in the tops of the trees. The humble songs of birds are heard. And even falling leaves make a noise similar to that which birds make when they soar. And if there are people in the forest, then the sounds of nature almost subside. Cheers of joy are heard. It was someone who found the gift of the forest - mycelium. Someone calls to each other, someone quietly sings. And no matter how these sounds are pronounced, even in a whisper, they are heard by all the inhabitants and guests of the forest.

And there are many different smells in the forest. Autumn gives aromas of late berries, mushrooms and leaves that rustle underfoot. And even a little coolness that hung in the air also has its own smell. It smells so fresh. It is very pleasant to inhale.

I want to freeze for a minute so as not to miss anything. Breathe in the aromas of autumn. Listen to the rustle of hedgehogs and squirrels that are in a hurry to stock up on delicious supplies for the winter. I want to remember how colorful nature can be. There are so many pleasant things in these colors that it is always joyful to visit the forest in the heart.

Beautiful autumn in the forest. Quiet sadness and calm are in the air. Leaves are falling in the air. The birds hushed in the trees. They no longer chirp happily. It seems that nature wants to rest after giving everything to people. This is how September begins - the first month of autumn.

The leaves gradually become more and more yellow. Then they turn into purple. Islands of yellow, pinkish-reddish, brownish islands appear in the forest against the background of faded greenery. Twigs of tender birch easily tremble in the wind, dropping small leaves. But mountain ash and viburnum delight the eye with rowing berries, which are filled with more and more juice day by day.

The sky becomes deep, deep blue. Snow-white clouds float across its boundless expanse. Sometimes a sharp wind starts to break, which makes the branches of trees bend, shaking off the foliage from them.

But with the onset of October, the weather begins to deteriorate more and more. The sky is increasingly becoming gray, drizzling light rain. In the morning, the horizon is supported by a haze of fog. Sometimes in the sky you can hear the sad song of birds flying south. They seem to say goodbye to nature, sending her their dreary cries.

It's mushroom season in the forest. From under the fallen leaves and coniferous needles mushroom caps appear here and there. These days, bustle still reigns - animals are making final preparations before the arrival of winter. Squirrels nimbly drag nuts, seeds, small cones into the nest. Hedgehogs puff businesslike, tearing something in the ground. Roe deer cut off the last green leaves and blades of grass.

With the onset of November, the first frosts are already felt in the air. On withered leaves that have not yet fallen from the trees, a winter pattern appears - a thin frost. Autumn is coming to an end - ahead Cold winter, which will be replaced by the flourishing of life again.

Composition for grade 5 - Autumn in the forest

Here comes autumn time. The portfolio is full of textbooks and notebooks. Lessons have started at school. But in autumn you can go not only to school. When the school week comes to an end, the long-awaited weekend comes. You can go with the whole family to autumn forest. There is silence. At this time of the year, you should definitely go to admire the bright colors of nature. And also breathe in the fresh aroma of raw wood. In September, the forest gives us goodies. Lingonberries, cranberries, mushrooms will decorate our table after a walk.

Approaching the forest, you can smell the wet grass and dry leaves. Entering the forest, I want to spend hours looking at the falling leaves. How many different colors are contained in each leaflet.

The palette of shades shifted from golden yellow to crimson red. There are so many of them that it is impossible to count them all. Such bright colors make my head spin. The leaves, breaking away from the branch, circle above the ground. They seem to be trying to waltz. But as soon as the wind blows, the foliage quickly rises up. When you walk along a forest path, fallen leaves cover your feet like a rustling blanket.

For all this, I love autumn. Because it is one of the most memorable moments in my life. This walk gives me a lot of energy. A herbarium from beautiful leaves, will remind me of a walk in the autumn forest.